Far Series | Book 2 | Far From Safe

by Mary, Kate L.

“Where do you think he is?” Kiaya asked.

  “I don’t know. I don’t like the idea of wandering around his house, but I also don’t like the thought of just leaving. Especially when we’re heading to the school tomorrow.”

  “Then we’ll have to go up.”

  She was right, as much as I really didn’t want her to be.

  We headed up together, climbing into the darkness side by side. The second floor was just as empty as the main floor had been, and when we stopped at the top and Kiaya turned on the flashlight she’d brought, not a thing moved.

  I called for my neighbor yet again, but still we were greeted by silence.

  The dread I’d felt at my house had come back with a vengeance, and it only grew worse as we moved down the hall. Every door was open except the one at the end, and Kiaya shone her flashlight into each one we passed. They were all empty.

  We reached the final door and stopped.

  “This is it,” I said.

  “If he isn’t here, he left,” Kiaya agreed.

  I nodded but couldn’t make myself talk. The idea of going into this room horrified me. I didn’t want to see Mr. Ito if he’d decided to kill himself. Didn’t want to know that my sweet, caring neighbor had felt like he had no other option. It was too much. Too painful.

  “Here goes,” Kiaya said as she reached for the knob.

  Her hand was steady, unlike my legs. They were trembling, barely keeping me up, so that I had to lean against the wall when she shoved the door open and the room came into view.

  He was there, lying in the middle of the bed on his back. His eyes were open and blank, turned toward the door like he’d been waiting for us to arrive, and there was an amber pill bottle lying on the floor at the foot of the bed.

  A sob bubbled up in my throat, and I stepped back, covering my mouth with my hand.

  “It’s okay,” Kiaya said, catching me just before I crumpled to the floor.

  It wasn’t, though, because Mr. Ito was dead. He’d killed himself. We’d been two houses away when he swallowed a mouthful of pills, so close. Just sitting there waiting for him to come over and tell us he needed help. Why had he done it? Why hadn’t he come to see us? Why hadn’t he asked for help?

  I pushed away from Kiaya and ran, heading back through the dark house and down the stairs, then outside. The sun was bright and the air chilly, and I gulped in mouthfuls, trying to push away my sobs. It worked, but it didn’t get rid of the dread building inside me. It was too big, too overwhelming. Just like this life.

  I was on my knees in the damp grass when Kiaya knelt beside me. “Not everyone is strong enough to get through trauma.”

  “I should have pushed harder for him to come to my house. I should have checked on him yesterday.”

  “You can’t make someone live if they don’t want to, Rowan.”

  I lifted my gaze to hers, blinking, and a tear slid down my cheek. “Why would he do this?”

  “You know why.”

  I did. It was what I’d been fighting since we got here and found my mom. The agony of loss could drive you crazy if you allowed it, and apparently, Mr. Ito had.

  “We should bury him,” I said, my gaze moving to the fresh earth at the edge of the garden. “He’d want to be with his wife.”

  “Yeah,” Kiaya said. “We can do that.”

  Devon had dug the hole and put my neighbor’s body in it, then refilled it. The work had been hard and had taken longer than I’d expected, but I’d stayed with him the entire time. I’d used the time to think, and it had made me more determined than ever before. My mom would get her final resting place.

  When he’d thrown the last shovelful of dirt on the grave, Devon grabbed my hand and pulled me to my feet, and together we headed across the yard. I barely remembered climbing the fences, but I must have, because the next thing I knew, I was home. The interior of the house was quiet, as if everyone had been as affected by Mr. Ito’s death as I had. They couldn’t have been, but I still appreciated the reverence.

  “I’m filthy,” Devon said.

  My hand was still in his, so I pulled him with me, heading for the stairs. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

  I led him to my room, shutting the door behind us, and headed into the bathroom. The sink had a couple inches of water already in it when I flipped my flashlight on, but I used the plastic jug on the floor to add some more. Then I grabbed a washcloth and bar of soap.

  I was working the soap into a lather when he walked into the room behind me, and our eyes met in the mirror. He’d removed his shirt, and his skin glistened with sweat. Dirt was smeared across his forehead and arms, and probably caked under his fingernails.

  I turned to face him, holding out the washcloth. “Here.”

  “Thanks.” He reached out to take it, and for a moment, we both held it, just staring at each other but saying nothing. For my part, I couldn’t muster the energy to speak, but I got the feeling he didn’t have a clue what to say.

  I couldn’t help him with that.

  I dropped my hand to my side. “Get cleaned up.”

  Devon nodded, saying nothing as I headed out of the bathroom.

  I curled up on my bed, feeling oddly numb. This whole thing had just started, and already I was tired of death. The lady in McDonald’s right after we left Phoenix, Kyle, all the people in Vega and Shamrock, my dad, my mom, and now Mr. Ito. So much so fast. Too much. How many more people would I see die? How many more friends would I lose to this world? Kiaya? Lisa? Devon?

  The thought brought tears to my eyes, and I squeezed them shut, curling up so my knees were to my chest.

  I was still lying like that when Devon eased himself onto the bed at my side. He wrapped his arms around me, saying nothing, and I leaned into him. It was exactly what I needed right now. Just the feel of another living person. Letting their warmth wrap around me, feeling their heart thud against my back. A reminder that not all was lost.

  “Stay with me,” I said. “Until I fall asleep.”

  “Of course,” was all he said. “I’ll stay as long as you want.”

  I didn’t respond, but the words were there, on the tip of my tongue just begging to get out.

  Promise you’ll never leave.

  I wouldn’t say it, because it was a promise he couldn’t keep, and I didn’t want to force him into a position where he’d have to lie to me.

  It wasn’t late, only early evening, but it wasn’t long before I drifted off. Devon kept his promise and stayed, his arms around me, his strength holding me together even as I felt like I was about to shatter. A few times I woke to find him still there. Once I could tell he was awake, lying at my side, but not sleeping. The next time I woke, it was dark, and his breathing had grown heavier. He exhaled, and my hair tickled my face. That time, I didn’t work to go back to sleep right away, but instead lay awake for a while, just listening to his breathing.

  Eventually, though, I did drift off, and the next time I came to, he was gone.

  I immediately missed his warmth.

  12

  Just like the day before, I was up before the sun, unable to sleep for one major reason.

  Mom.

  We were leaving the house today. We’d already packed anything and everything—and I meant everything—that would be useful in this new world, so we were ready once Gabe’s people showed up. It was for the best. We needed to be with other people, plus the house wasn’t safe. We were too exposed, and we had too many kids and not enough people with experience. This would make us all safer.

  But I wasn’t just leaving my house. I was leaving my mom. That was the difficult part, because I knew I should take care of her, but I wasn’t sure if I could face it. Just thinking about doing it made me want to throw up. The problem was, thinking of leaving without putting her out of her misery made the nausea worse. Then there was the issue of how. Devon was right about one thing. I couldn’t do it on my own. But I had to take care of it. But how would I accomplish it?

  Standing
at my window, I looked down at the street, watching the dark silhouettes. Most of them weren’t moving, but the few that were moved aimlessly. They walked toward a house, stopping when they reached a point of no return. Sometimes it was a wall, sometimes steps that led up to a front porch. I knew they could climb stairs because I’d seen them do it, but in the absence of noise, they seemed to have no motivation to. Instead, they would turn and stumble through the yard, moving until they reached another dead end or even stopping completely until something caught their attention again.

  It was too dark to distinguish the figures from one another, so I had no clue which one was my mom or if she was even here, or if any of my other neighbors were out there. All I could tell was that the zombies stumbling around below me were all different shapes and sizes. Tall and short, small like children and even a few toddlers. Thin. Overweight. There was no end to the diversity of the group.

  A shudder moved down my spine, and I hugged myself.

  There was a quiet knock on the door, and I turned as it opened a crack.

  Kiaya stuck her head in, frowning. “I thought I heard you moving around.”

  “I couldn’t sleep,” I said, my gaze going back to the window.

  Footsteps padded across the room, but I didn’t look her way.

  When she reached me, she said, “Don’t torture yourself.”

  I swallowed the barrage of tears threatening to rip their way out of me. My throat was raw. As if my emotions had claws. That was how it felt, anyway.

  “My mom never wore socks because she said they made her feet sweaty. Even when it was freezing outside, she would walk around the house barefoot. Made me cold just looking at her.”

  A tear escaped the corner of my eye and slid down my cheek, and I didn’t bother wiping it away. There was no point. There would be more. Now and later and every day for the foreseeable future, because everything that faced us from here on out was guaranteed to be dark and twisted and painful.

  Kiaya’s hand moved across my back so her arm was around me, and I leaned into the half-hug. She didn’t say a thing. Which I was grateful for. In fact, it seemed as if I appreciated her silence more and more with each passing day.

  “I can’t leave her out there like that,” I said after a few seconds of sniffles, somehow managing to keep the majority of my tears at bay.

  Kiaya shifted, and I lifted my head so I could look up at her.

  “What do you want to do?”

  “Kill her.” I swallowed when my emotions once again began to claw their way up my throat. “If that’s what you even call it. It seems wrong since she’s already dead, but I don’t know what else to say.” I shook my head and shrugged at the same time to let her know it didn’t matter. “She deserves to be buried.”

  “It won’t be easy,” Kiaya said, her gaze returning to the street below.

  My room faced west, and even though I couldn’t see it, I could tell the sun was coming up, because the figures were more visible than they had been only a few minutes ago. I could also now tell that there were more than I’d originally thought. Some of the dead had been hidden by the darkness.

  “I could bury her in the back yard,” I said. “She loved her garden, so I thought that would be a good place.”

  “But how?” Kiaya asked. “How do you kill one zombie who’s surrounded by so many without putting yourself or others at risk?”

  It was the same thing Devon had said last night, and they had a point. The dead seemed to gather in groups, probably drawn to the noise. I wasn’t sure if there was a way to lure just one away.

  “I don’t know,” I murmured, holding her gaze. Pleading with my eyes. “But I have to try.”

  “I know.” Kiaya’s big, brown eyes brimmed with sympathy. “I get it, and if you want me to, I’ll help.”

  “You will?”

  “Of course,” she said. “You offered me a ride when you didn’t even know me. You offered me a place to stay when I’m pretty sure you didn’t like me.”

  I didn’t protest because she’d know I was lying. “I like you now.”

  “Good,” she said, then continued. “And you went to save my sister when you could have told me no. Plus, I saw you sit with Kyle when he was dying, saw you run after Lexi when she needed help. You always say I’m such a good person, Rowan, but you are, too. So yes, I will help you.”

  “Thanks,” I said, now in serious danger of sobbing. “I want to stay behind when the others head to the school so I can do it before I leave the house for good, but I know Devon’s going to argue.”

  “He can’t tell you no,” Kiaya said, “especially not if I’m staying with you.”

  “True,” I said, a smile forcing its way out of me. Kiaya had that kind of effect.

  We stood for a few minutes in silence, me staring out over the street as the sun rose higher, Kiaya saying nothing. Her arm was still around me, and it was comforting enough that I didn’t want to turn away, but I could hear movement throughout the house and knew the others were up. It was time to get started on this day, as much as I dreaded it.

  “We should see what everyone else is doing,” I said, straightening.

  “Yeah.”

  Kiaya’s arm slipped from my shoulders and her back straightened as if, like me, she was preparing herself for what was to come. I appreciated the moral support more than I could say.

  In the hallway, both the office and guestroom doors were open, and the rooms were empty, so we headed downstairs. There, we found everyone gathered in the kitchen, the kids and Randall eating cherry Pop-Tarts at the table, while Devon and Lisa were working to gather the last few items in the kitchen. Unsurprisingly, Buck had a drink in his hand, and Miller was glowering at everyone from the couch. I looked away before I gave him a dirty look.

  “Morning,” Devon said, looking up from the box in front of him, a smile on his face that wasn’t the least bit tentative. Not only that, but the circles under his eyes were less pronounced than they’d been yesterday, and his eyes weren’t as bloodshot. I wasn’t sure how long he’d stayed with me, but either way, he must have gotten some sleep.

  “You look like you slept well.”

  “Best night’s sleep I’ve had in a long time,” he said, winking, “but yes, I got some much-needed sleep.”

  Despite my melancholy, I smiled. “Good.”

  “I think that’s the last of it,” Lisa said, adding a package of Pop-Tarts to the box in front of Devon.

  I snatched them out. “Thank you.”

  “Pop-Tarts?” Devon said, his eyes twinkling.

  He was working very hard to cheer me up this morning, and as usual, it worked. At least a little.

  “I’m a child at heart,” I retorted as I ripped into the foil package.

  Really, though, it was stress eating. I never ate breakfast and hardly ever ate anything like this—my mom didn’t buy processed foods—but I was hoping the crumbly pastry would help settle my nerves. Or at least give me something to focus on for the time being.

  I munched on the Pop-Tart as I headed to the window. We’d left the blinds up the night before, but it didn’t seem to matter since the field beyond was still empty with the exception of the occasional bird, and now that the sun was fully over the horizon, the world was lit up. In the distance, the fire was still raging, the thick black plume billowing into the sky like a smoke signal to God. It was definitely bigger today, and since there was no one left to put it out, it would no doubt continue to spread unless we got some heavy rain. Too bad the sky was once again crystal clear.

  Zara stopped beside me. “You think it’s a neighborhood?”

  “Probably,” I said through a mouthful of Pop-Tart. “There are a few neighborhoods over that way.”

  “Who would do that?” She shook her head, and when her curly hair bobbed back and forth, it made me think of her sister.

  “You’re assuming it was set on purpose?”

  Zara turned her gaze on me. “Why not? There’s no one to stop people
from doing stuff like that anymore. Some people like to wreak havoc just for the fun of it.”

  She was right. Of the fifteen percent of the population who’d made it through this thing, how many were decent human beings? There was no way of knowing.

  I sighed. “There’s so much to consider now. So many things I never had to face before all this.”

  “Then you’re lucky,” Zara said.

  “Yes,” I replied, “but it also makes me feel ill-equipped for this world.”

  A horn blared from somewhere in the distance, and we both turned to face the others.

  “Think that’s them?” Buck asked.

  Devon was already heading to the front of the house. “Only one way to find out.”

  I hurried after him, tossing my leftover Pop-Tart on the counter. It had done nothing to calm my uneasy stomach and tasted as appealing as a handful of dirt.

  Others moved to follow as well, and soon everyone but Randall and Lexi were headed to the front window.

  Devon had already reached the window and was moving the curtains aside when I joined him. A truck sat at the end of the street, right beside the intersection, and the zombies were already headed its way. Another horn blared, and the truck revved its engine. It moved a few feet when the zombies got close, then honked again, doing it again a few minutes later.

  “Looks like they’re leading the dead away,” Devon said.

  “Yup.” Lisa pointed out the window. “And another car is waiting for them to do it.”

  I hadn’t noticed it at first, but a second vehicle, this one a black sedan, sat in a driveway at the end of the street, close to where the truck had been when we’d first reached the window. From here, I couldn’t tell if the car’s engine was running, but if it was, none of the zombies seemed to care. They were too intent on following the truck, which was now turning onto another road.

  I did a quick scan of the dead, locating my mom at the back of the group. Like the others, she was headed away from the house, and even though I shouldn’t have expected anything different, it still made my stomach drop. How would I take care of her now?